


1,623 Heartbeats

by oftennot



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Caleb Whump, Episode 109, F/M, Spoilers, mentions of fjorester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26407621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oftennot/pseuds/oftennot
Summary: “Why didn’t you ask me to dance, Caleb?”
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 7
Kudos: 93





	1,623 Heartbeats

**Author's Note:**

> Lin posed the most heartbreaking scenario in the Widojest server: What if Jester approaches Caleb and asks him why he didn’t dance with her.

“Why didn’t you ask me to dance, Caleb?”

It’s nighttime. He’s not sleeping. The letter he received from Trent has burned into his skin. Even if it weren’t, the words themselves are in his mind. Jester approaches him in the alleyway outside their inn. He had planned on showing all of them the new spell he’d been working on. One that would create a house for them wherever they go, so she would never have to sleep outside with fear of being captured again.

How foolish he was to think he could do anything to help her. Protect her. Make her happy.

He doesn’t turn to face her because the pain and accusation in her voice is enough. He’s seen her hurt before. He remembers everything.

“I thought you would want to dance with Fjord.” He doesn’t bother playing dumb. They both know what she’s referring to. “You are sweet on each other.”

She huffs in response. “Did you ever think that maybe I wanted to dance with _you?”_

“No.” He swallows.

“Why not?”

“Does it matter, Jester?” One hand comes up to pinch the bridge of his nose, his eyes shutting closed. He doesn’t want to be having this conversation. It never should’ve come to this. He never should’ve let himself be so careless.

“It does to me. Why won’t you—“ the crunch of gravel as she takes a step closer to him.  “Why won’t you let yourself be loved?”

Her voice cracks in time with his heart. He takes in a shuddering breath. Contemplates running—teleporting away. Far, far away where there is no Trent or Astrid or Eodwulf or Cerberus Assembly. Where his past won’t bring him down and Jester along with him.

“Jester, I—“

“Why won’t you let me love you?”

He braces a hand on the wall, trying to keep himself upright. His vision swims in front of him. No. No no no. This was exactly what he didn’t want, what he was trying to avoid.

His nails scrape against the stone. “It was not my intention to hurt you. I am very sorry to have caused you pain. I did not mean to give the impression—I thought—you and Fjord—“

“You never even gave me the chance to love you.” She’s right next to him now. He can see the faint glow of The Traveler’s hands etched into her skin in his peripheral. 

“You shouldn’t, Jester.”

“That’s my choice to make. Making yourself miserable by pushing me into the arms of someone else—that’s not fair, Caleb. It my choice, not yours.”

“You’re right.” Of course she is. He managed to fuck up this too. “It was wrong of me.”

There’s a moment of silence. She’s probably waiting for him to say something. He has no idea what she is waiting to hear from him. This—whatever this is—was nothing he had ever expected or planned for. It was what he had been trying to avoid. And like Trent, like his past, he’s wound up right in the middle of it.

“I could love you, you know.” More words that rip him apart by making him feel something like hope again. “But not like this. Not when you’re fighting so hard not to be loved.”

Her hands reaches out for him. He tenses. Jester notices, like she always does. She stops, her hand hovering in the air. Her fingers curl into her palm and it drops back to her side. 

When she speaks again her voice is a whisper. “I want to love you, Caleb. When you’re ready, maybe I’ll still want to.”

Then she leaves. He stays there for minutes, perhaps hours, longer. For once his mind is not silently ticking away each second that passes. Or perhaps that has always been him feeling each beat of his heat inside his chest. The only real reminder he has left that he is alive. That this is real. 1,623 heartbeats pass. Then he pushes himself off the wall and makes his way back to his room.

The letter that’s been clenched in his fist falls to the ground, forgotten.


End file.
